Work Text:
Originally inspired by this cute-as-heck post-canon text edit!
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“Good thing we left early, hmm?”
Lance rolled his eyes at the car in front, not bothering to look over and see the shit-eating grin he knew his brother wore. “Yeah, yeah. We still have time, though.”
“We do. Because I made you leave early,” Luis said, letting his hand ‘accidentally’ clap his arm hard on its way down to the gear-shift. Lance yelped and grabbed his bicep, scowling, but Luis waggled a finger at him before he could retaliate. “Ah ah ah, flaquito, no attacking the driver.”
Grumbling, Lance crossed his arms and sunk back into his seat. “I could’ve come to get her on my own, you know.”
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t be able to make out in the back seat on the way home.”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Lance exploded. “How many quiznaking times—”
“Sure, she isn’t,” Luis drawled as they moved again. “Just every story you tell is ‘Peach this’ or ‘Peach that’—”
“Her name’s Pidge—”
“That’s what I said,” he continued without missing a beat, “and then you’re constantly texting her—”
“Because she’s got the smallest time difference!” Well, her and Keith and Shiro, but...
“Plus she called you at like five a.m. to tell you to come pick her up this afternoon and you just went ‘okay!’” Luis laughed. “Not even Mami is buying the ‘just friends’ shtick, and you can do no wrong in her eyes at the moment.”
“Ugh. I know.” Lance threw his head back with a groan.
Mami had been adamant that she ‘would not have him sneaking around under this roof, mijo’ and it had taken the better part of an hour to convince her that they did, in fact, need to get the guest room ready, as Pidge would not be sleeping in Lance’s room.
Wasn’t that, like, totally opposite to the problem other guys his age had?
“What time did she have to leave this morning, anyway?”
“Uh…” Lance glanced at the clock on the console instinctively, though it wouldn’t hold the answers. “Her first flight left at six, her time. She would’ve had to get the 1.30 shuttle near campus.”
Luis whistled. “1.30 a.m.? And she gets in at four p.m.? That’s a hell of a journey. You sure she’s ‘just a friend’?”
“She’s not my girlfriend, Luis!”
“Uh-huh. Why’s she suddenly coming, again?”
Lance turned to look out of the passenger side window, his cheeks hot as he mumbled a reply.
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”
Lance resisted the urge to punch him. “She said she missed me, okay?! Argh!” Yelling his frustration, he stabbed the button for the radio and began flicking through the frequencies just for something to do that didn’t involve fratricide. “And I know what you’re thinking, okay, but—”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s not your girlfriend.” Lance could hear the fucking grin in his voice, and it made his eye twitch. “But she will be.”
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Were hearts supposed to beat this hard?
He stood in the arrivals hall at the terminal, scanning the crowd as Luis slouched casually beside him.
Oh God. He was gonna puke. What was wrong with him?
It’s only Pidge.
“Relax, flaquito, her flight only landed fifteen minutes ago. She’s probably still going through security.”
Lance shrugged him off, unwilling to admit how nervous he was at the prospect of seeing Pidge walk through those big white doors. He still didn’t really get why he felt like he was in a dogfight, but he’d be damned if he was gonna let Luis find out.
He’d missed her. And he was finally ready to admit that — being totally honest here — the way he missed Pidge? Definitely not the same with how he missed the others. Him and Pidge texted every day, video-called a few times a week, and were constantly sending snaps and memes back and forth — and still he’d found himself missing her.
Hunk, who been his best friend for almost a decade, called him once a week and sent the occasional text, and that was enough to quell the ache. Shiro, Keith, Coran? They were family to him, yet he rarely found himself thinking about them. Knowing they’d all be together again next month made it hard to miss them too much.
Allura…? Allura he’d been in love with for almost two years, yet she’d never, ever made his heart beat as fast as this.
Shit. Maybe Luis had a point. And Marco. And Mami. And Veronica. And—
“People are starting to come out,” Luis observed, ripping Lance out of his thoughts. “What does your Peach look like?”
“Pidge,” Lance corrected automatically. “And she’s like, 155cm, has brown hair probably just above her shoulders — wait she dyed the inside bits blonde, so not just brown anymore. And, uh—”
“So like that girl over there?”
Lance’s gaze followed the direction of his finger, and his heart stopped.
Right there, just beside the doors, standing on her tiptoes to try and see over the crowd. She wore a pink t-shirt that practically fell off her shoulders, her hair was an absolute mess and with her glasses gone he could see the bags under her eyes even from this far away, but…
Pidge.
It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
A second later she saw him. Their eyes met and her face lit up like the sun, and then she was sprinting towards him, her luggage forgotten as she weaved through the crowds with a cry of “Lance!”
He met her halfway, letting out an “oof!” when she barrelled into his chest and then immediately using the momentum to spin her around. They were both laughing when her feet touched down again, but he didn’t remove his hands from her waist and then…
Well, one of the weird things about being a Voltron paladin was that you were almost supernaturally in sync with your teammates.
Lance wasn’t sure if it was his idea or Pidge’s, but a heartbeat later her lips slid over his and her hair was soft on his fingertips. She flung her arms around his neck and damn she was short but hell, he could bend so he wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, pulling her against him and kissing her with all the enthusiasm of a man starved, because who needed to breathe anyway?
Not him. He’d be damned if it was him.
Eventually, though, Pidge pulled back, her eyes shining brightly and the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen on her face as she whispered: “Hi.”
Lance’s heart leapt.
“Hi, yourself.” He grinned, leaning down again to place a peck on the tip of her nose. “I missed you.”
Pidge laughed, a light, clear sound, and he wondered if he’d died and this was heaven.
A low wolf whistle had them jumping apart, faces bright red. Luis stood less than a metre away, leaning casually against Pidge’s suitcase as he watched them, every feature on his face alight with poorly-concealed mirth.
Pidge glanced between him and Lance questioningly, eyes widening and blush deepening as she made the connection (did they really look that much alike?). “Oh—! Oh! Uh… Hola?”
Luis laughed. “Hi, Not-My-Girlfriend. I’m Not-His-Brother, Luis.”
